RISK-HOW WE DO IT EVERYDAY

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I’ve been thinking a lot about risk lately. Just the word used to cause a shudder in my body from head to toe. Risk. I knew I needed to take it when growing up in my family if I was going to change anything.  You see my father was an alcoholic. All the dysfunction you might imagine came with it. Rage, violence–verbal and physical intimidation–the codependent mother trying to keep the peace, and my sister and I, left to carve ...

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MOM BEGINS TO CHECK OUT: A CODEPENDENT IS BORN

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After dressing in jeans and my cheer jersey, I went bounding down the stairs and found my mother at the kitchen table. That morning, her body and round face, surrounded by her dark, curly, dyed hair, seemed to be smaller.

I didn’t realize how my life was changing. Even as I resisted, my boundaries were being redefined. I was making new friends, and the things I was involved in were sophisticated.

The importance of my parents was diminishing.

As I looked at Mom ...

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